Reflections in a Clouded Mirror
by The Wraith of Saganami
Summary: The Darkness has a few secrets of its own. The Blood believed that upon death, one returned to the Darkness and became one with the Abyss. Yet, what if their knowledge on the matter was incomplete? Occurs after Terreille/Kaeleer conflict.
1. Unexpected Visitors

A/N

Well, I will start off with the standard "I don't own this" thing. I'll also mention that this probably isn't that new of a concept, but... my idea of explaining the phenomenon will probably be a bit... different. Which is what I go for. Also... bear in mind that this is rated 'T' because there will be some _light_ swearing, themes of death, violence, reincarnation, and, the thing everyone loves, kissing and romance. No PwoP though. Sorry... can't bring myself to read it, let alone write it. Anywho... enjoy.

* * *

"Go! Go! To the altar!" Cassandra commanded. She turned at the entrance of the wooded copse and erected a Black shield. It held - barely - under the barrage of Red, Sapphire, and Grey spells that the enemy Warlord Princes were sending her way.

Her charges were all natives of Amarzyliis, the new Realm that lay on the other side of the Darkness. Just how she'd found herself reincarnated in this Realm, Cassandra did not know.

'Nor do I need to know,' she thought angrily to herself. When you have seven dark Jeweled Warlord Princes on your ass, it's a good idea to focus on other things. Like the shield!

The young Prince that she'd grabbed appeared suddenly at her side. He raised his Sapphire Jewel and, in a weak attempt, managed to send a spell through her barrier to strike a Green Warlord Prince. The man flew backwards a few steps, but was unharmed.

"Not now! You don't know what you're doing!" Cassandra yelled, grabbing the Prince's arm. "Come along. Do you have the candles set up?" She demanded.

The trio of females looked frightened as she approached. Their psychic scents flowed with anxiety.

"Y-yes," stammered the tallest female. She was a Sapphire Jeweled Queen . . . and apparently had some skills as a Priestess. Cassandra raised an eyebrow. The black candles she'd left in the girl's charge (Darkness! It would be easier if she'd gotten their names!) were arrayed in the standard triangle pattern one used to activate the Gates between Realms.

No time to dwell on the convenience of that at the moment. Calling in a small knife, Cassandra slit open her palm and allowed the blood to flow onto the altar. The young women looked sick, especially the Blood Opal Jeweled Black Widow.

"I need a light. Does anyone have one?" Cassandra demanded. Dutifully, the Prince pulled a book of matches from his pocket.

Snatching them from him, Cassandra wiped a bit of sweat from her brow. Those damn Warlord Princes weren't letting up, and she could feel the energy of her Black Jewel depleting at an alarming rate.

"You! Watch closely. Memorize the way I am lighting them. The order is important!" Cassandra growled, gripping the Priestess/Queen with her bleeding left hand. Blood stained the girl's pink blouse, and she cringed.

The match hovered over the center candle, then progressed to the peak of the triangle, angled to light the right candle, and ended at the left. The crimson gate irised open and began to rotate slightly.

Sweat continued to bead on her forehead. It wouldn't belong before those Warlord Princes broke through her shield.

"All of you, come here!" She ordered. The third girl, a dark-haired Queen was closest to the gate. Gripping the girl's arm, Cassandra used her blood to trace a 'C' on the girl's forehead. "You'll need that where you're going." She said. The other two received the same mark. She reflected a moment on how odd this cluster of Amarzylians actually was. A Queen, a Black Widow, a witch and a Prince. For a culture that just discovered itself to be Blood a few scant weeks ago . . .

She shook her head. "Go through now! Hurry!"

The girls whimpered, but did as they were told and leapt into the gate. The shield buckled slightly as Cassandra turned to the male, and the two of them had to duck as a grey spell shattered an overhead pine bough.

"I can stay and help you fight!" The boy said.

Cassandra tried hard not to smile. How very male of him.

"No! You have to go too! Protect the Females. Do as you are told." She ordered, tracing a 'C' on his forehead. In one swift motion, she shoved him into the gate and destroyed the candles.

"Wai–!" his cry was cut off as the gate closed.

Shrinking to the ground, Cassandra dropped the Black shield and descended deep within herself. She'd use all of her power, and it would probably be fatal. Reaching the edge of the abyss, she began her rapid ascent. Moments before she released her death-spell, she reflected on the slight oddity she'd detected in the Prince's psychic scent. Then, once again, Cassandra returned to the Darkness . . .

* * *

There were several things that Saetan Daemon SaDiablo had become accustomed to since he'd made the move from SaDiablo Hall to the Keep of Ebon Askavi. Being interrupted by messengers whilst showering was not among them.

Hell's fire! He frantically reached for a towel that had been inconveniently placed just out of reach as a young witch came flying into the room.

"High Lord!" She cried. Noting his dripping body, she angled her vision toward his face and spoke. "There's something going on by the gate. I was sent to inform you."

Saetan nodded. "Thank you, Lady. Tell Draca I'll be there in a moment.

The hearth witch bowed deeply, though whether it was out of respect or an attempt to sneak a peak, Saetan didn't know. The Gate? It wasn't that unusual for travelers from Hell to visit the Keep. Why did Draca want him there?

Toweling rapidly, he gripped a fresh pair of trousers and a blouse. He used a quick drying spell to dry his hair, and called in his shoes. Hopping down the hallway, he attempted to kill two birds with one stone by moving toward his destination and put on the tight leather shoes. After nearly falling over the third time, he decided that getting the shoes on first would be better than falling down the several flights of stairs that lay ahead of him.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, he made his way to the Gate room. The psychic vibrations of Draca's shield thrummed into the hallway, and Saetan prepared himself inwardly for a fight. What he found in the room was . . . not what he expected.

The quartet of dirty young adults gave him pause a moment. Who are they? Why was there a 'C' written in blood on their foreheads?

Whoever they were, they were very frightened. The females had huddled behind the male, a Prince, by his psychic scent, and he was projecting a crudely made Sapphire shield. Saetan's eyes narrowed. There was something odd about that Prince . . .

He glanced over to Draca. As usual, the seneschal was her quiet self.

"Who are they?" he asked.

"I do not know. They claim they are from a place called Amarzyliis, but I do not know of any such place," came the reply.

Saetan ran a quick scan of the females. All three were different classes and powers, but it seemed that the Queen was the same Jewel as the Prince.

He took a step forward . . . and barely brought up a Red shield in time to fend off an attack. Feisty ones, these strangers were.

"Stay back! I don't know who you are, but stay away and leave us alone!" the Prince demanded.

Saetan raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe you're in any place to make demands, Prince. Remember your place," he said coolly.

The boy didn't budge. "My place is between you and my friends. Back off!"

Saetan raised a hand. Better calm this one down before it gets ugly. "All right. Let's all take a breath. Who are you?"

"I think I'd like to know who you are," came the snappy reply.

Nice kid, where'd you find him? Saetan sent a Black spear thread to Draca. The corners of her mouth quirked in amusement. "Are you always this . . . " He trailed off. Something wasn't quite right. Why weren't the females speaking? Wasn't one of them a young Queen?

He decided to take a slightly less direct approach. "I am Saetan Daemon SaDiablo. High Lord of Hell."

The boy blinked, and the girls' psychic scents took on an air of confusion.

"Where did you say you were from?" he asked.

The boy's blue eyes shifted toward deep cerulean. "Greater Amaryllis. Which I'll assume isn't where we are."

Again with the strange name. "No. You are in the Keep of Ebon Askavi in Kaeleer. Does that mean anything to you?"

The boy shook his head, as did the girls.

Saetan took a step to the right. "Can you tell me a little about yourselves?" he asked, directing his question at the fair-haired Queen. The Prince again stepped between him and the females.

Saetan sighed. This was going nowhere fast. "Would you let me into your thoughts so I can at least get a general idea of what is going on?"

"You can do that!? Er, never mind. How would I do that?"

Saetan took a mental step back. What did he mean, how? He was using Craft! How could he . . . never the matter. "I'm going to assume you have no idea what is going on, so I'll walk you through it. Unless one of the Ladies-" a dangerous look shot into the boy's eyes. "Ok, I'll walk you through it."

Preparing himself, Saetan took a quick moment to examine the trio of females the Prince was so diligently defending. Two were fairly darkly Jeweled, and the Black Widow definitely would have some power behind her when she made her Offering. Assuming she hadn't already.

Saetan took a moment to center himself, then drifted into the boy's mind. With surprising ease, the inner barrier's parted, allowing Saetan access to answers to questions he hadn't even formed yet. There was an odd sense of familiarity to the young Prince's inner workings, but Saetan withdrew before he could pin it down. In doing so, he discovered the beginnings of a very nasty migraine.

Darkness these kids had a story! And the Black Queen, Cassandra . . . how?

Was it helpful? Draca's inquiry allowed for a moment of refocus.

"Yes," Saetan said aloud. "Cassandra sent them through. Hence the 'C' on their heads."

Draca hissed, causing the Amarzylians to flinch visibly. "But how? She was sacrificed when Jaenelle . . . " She began to turn toward the quartet before them.

"They know nothing more than we know. I know Cassandra well enough. This is some sort of message, but only we are meant to understand it." Saetan waved a hand toward the young adults. "Even as messengers, they are in the dark as to what she was trying to warn us about."

Draca frowned, then nodded thoughtfully. The Prince took a moment to speak up.

"Not to be a bother," he started, his tone slightly more humble than it had been initially. "But have we done something wrong?" He shifted uncomfortably, but continued to stand well in front of the females. "I mean . . . "

Saetan smiled warmly. "No, you have not. However, it is a mystery to me just how exactly you four received your Jewels. What I saw in your mind, Tristin," he started, calling the Prince by his name (which he'd learned during his time in the boy's mind) for the first time, "Doesn't make any sense to me."

"Our Jewels just appeared about a month ago."

Saetan and, for that matter, Draca's attentions turned toward the young hearth witch who'd spoken up for the first time. The sudden amount of attention frightened her, and she paled slightly.

"It's all right, Lady, speak up." Saetan said.

Tristin held out his arm, and with shaking hands, the witch took it. "Um, I said that our Jewels just appeared one day." She said softly, fingering the small Green pendant around her neck. "They're very pretty, but . . . we can't do anything like what the Black Lady did."

Tristin made a slight miffed sound, but said nothing.

Saetan turned to Draca. "I'm getting the impression that they haven't had anything like Craft for many years."

Draca nodded in agreement. "I am surprised that none of the Black Widows foresaw this," she said, syllables hissing slightly. The Amaryllians again flinched at her voice.

"No offense, but what are you?" Tristin asked. The trio of females sent him very nasty looks, which he either didn't notice or chose to ignore. "Because you aren't quite human."

Draca shook her scaled head. "I am dragonkin." She stated simply.

Saetan felt the corners of his mouth quirk upward in a smile as the young Blood in front of him simultaneously took on the same expression. The unspoken question echoed among the four of them.

"Dragonkin? Like, a descendant of a dragon? I thought they didn't exist!" The auburn haired Black Widow spoke up. She stepped beside Tristin. "Where are we?"

Saetan held up a questing quelling hand. "In due time, Lady. How about we start off with something simple, like names, for example."

The Black Widow blushed slightly. "Oh. My name is Beth." She said, inclining her head slightly.

Saetan bowed. "Welcome. I'll apologize for not having a more formal introduction, but I figure that any ceremony will probably be foreign to you. Again, I am Saetan Daemon SaDiablo, High Lord of Hell and former Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. My companion here is Draca, seneschal of the Keep." Draca inclined her head slightly, and remained silent. "And who are your other companions?"

The fair-haired Queen found her courage and stepped out next to the Green Jeweled witch. "Um . . . my name is Hannah." She said, awkwardly half curtsying, half bowing.

Saetan gave himself a moment to collect himself before he replied. Darkness be merciful. She was a Sapphire too! There hadn't been that many Blood whose Jewels had been so dark, and if this was just a small sampling of the Amaryllis populace . . .

... Well, time to worry about that later. "Welcome, young Queen."

The girl made a rather interesting noise through her nose. "Queen? I think you are mistaken."

"Why shouldn't you be a Queen?" The witch asked.

Saetan's migraine flared slightly. Obviously there was going to be more explaining about the customs of Kaeleer than he'd feared.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Saetan attempted to head off an argument. "I'll explain what I meant by that later. And seeing as you are the last one for us to know, Lady, what is your name?" He asked.

The young witch's lips formed an 'O.' Running a finger through her dark hair, she said: "I'm Saffron, sir."

Saetan nodded to her, then took in the general panorama of the room. A Prince, a Queen, a Black Widow, and a witch. All very strange visitors. All definitely had a tale to tell.

'And just wait until you get Jaenelle and Daemon involved in this. They'll definitely want to know,' a little voice nagged at the back of his brain. As a response, the migraine made itself aware that it was still there.

* * *

Tristin's mind was still reeling as he and his friends consented to be led deeper into the Keep. Things would be so much less distracting if that damn extra sense hadn't appeared with his Jewel! The misty, nebulous feelings and other unfamiliar things that he was feeling from the others who were with him were a terrible distraction. His soul seemed to know things about the Jewels that his mind hadn't quite figured out yet.

'Obviously, otherwise I wouldn't've made that shield,' he thought to himself. Sighing, he contented himself to hover protectively between their two . . . protectors? He wasn't quite sure what to make of them. The dragon lady seemed all right, but there was something about the Saetan character. What kind of name was Saetan, anyway? It had a sinister ring to it. And what was Hell? As far as he knew, it was just another four letter word that people used that really had lost its meaning. Sort of like the connotations behind the word 'boinking.'

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Tristin looked over his shoulder to check on the girls. Beth was her usual, semi-impulsive self, and had warily taken the lead. Saffron and Hannah, however, hung behind; bodily protected by Tristin. At least they were allowing him to protect them. Argh, Beth!

"I love the stone work, what are the walls made of?" Beth asked, running a palm over the smooth, black granite.

Saetan turned, and smiled his deceptively warm smile. "Ebon Askavi was carved from the black mountain."

Hannah let out a small gasp. "A mountain? We're inside one?" She quietly inquired.

Saetan nodded. "Yes. The Keep exists in all three Realms, Lady. Which, in due time, will be explained."

'In due time indeed.' Tristin thought to himself. He couldn't place it, but there was something familiar and slightly annoying about the so called Warlord Prince of something. Why did he feel like he'd met the man once before!? He continued to puzzle over the feelings that he had. He was trapped, so far as he knew, in an unknown place controlled by unknown people with unsaid intentions. He was crackling on the inside with nervous energy, and felt ready to leap into any kind of defense possible.

To say that he was disoriented and afraid was definitely what he'd call an understatement.

A sudden, soft sensation on his right hand distracted him from any further thoughts. Hannah's slight grip got his attention, and she whispered into his ear. "Do you think we're safe here? Or should we try to get away?" She asked, her warm breath making him shiver slightly.

He swallowed quietly as he analyzed the way he was reacting to her close proximity, and found himself to be slightly annoyed because he liked it. Why did her presence suddenly banish the fear and add some slightly more defensive element to his emotions? Between smelling her physically and the psychic. . . for lack of a better word, scent she had. . . ugh! What was it?!

Tristin shook himself and turned toward to her to reply. She turned her head slightly, and delicately brushed her hair behind her ear.

Leaning in close, he whispered his reply. "I don't know yet. I'll think of something, don't worry. Just stick close to me and Saffron, ok?" He asked, pleading in both voice and eyes.

Hannah met his eyes, and nodded in agreement. The pleasant sensation of her hand left his as she fell back and joined Saffron. The two girls started their whispered conversation anew, but Tristin found he couldn't pay attention to them. Saetan had looked back at him the moment Hannah left his side, and for the first time, Tristin noticed that the man's eyes were an unusual gold colour. A colour, come to think of it, he'd noticed creeping into Hannah's normally blue irises.

Whether or not Saetan had caught their conversation, he made no mention of it. At the end of the long hallway he'd been leading them down, was a door to a large room.

"I apologize for the walk, but the Gate Room is quite a distance within the Keep from the Great Hall." He explain, opening the door. "I'll also apologize for serving you a meal in your present states, and that it seems rather small. However, Jaenelle," Saetan paused, correcting himself. "ahem, Lady Angeline thought it would be best if you all had full stomachs when she and the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan arrived."

'Lady who?' Tristin thought. His eyes bugged. Holy! This is what they prepare on short notice?! A large amount of breads, fruits, and vegetables were arrayed on the table in the hall. Without hesitation, Beth curtsied to Saetan.

"I'm sure it will be fine, um. . . Should I call you sir, or something else?" She asked.

Saetan inclined his head. "High Lord would be just fine, Lady."

'Sure it would,' Tristin thought. 'Remind us that you are superior and we know next to nothing about you. I just hope he didn't poison the food...'

"If you all would please be seated, one of the servants will bring in some water to wash your hands with. If there is still time before the Lady and Prince of Dhemlan arrive, I'll have them show you to the baths and provide you with some clean garments." Saetan explained. Turning toward the door, he paused. "Oh, and Tristin." He said.

Oh great. "Yes?"

"If I were you, I'd learn to keep your conversations quiet. Some of us have excellent hearing, despite our advanced ages."

So he was listening! Tristin nodded silently, and the hall's door closed behind the High Lord. Great, well, maybe the escape planning _won't_ be part of dinner...

* * *

With his 'guests' situated and presumably eating in the great hall, Saetan found himself in the Keep's Library. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he called in his spectacles as Geoffrey, the ancient Librarian of the Keep, offered him a glass of warmed Yarbarah.

"So there's nothing in the old books or maps that speaks of this Realm I saw in the boy's mind?" He asked.

Geoffrey shook his head, sipping his own glass. "I've never found anything quite like that. We know what it is not, seeing as all memory of _that_ place was lost years ago."

Saetan winced slightly at the not so subtle hint at Zuulman. "No. Of course not. The place I saw was very... different from either of the two Realms we know." Rubbing his temples in irritation, he shook himself. "Even their society seemed slightly off. If my impressions that the Prince had are correct, they seem to be patriarchal."

Geoffrey shrugged. "Is that necessarily uncommon? If I recall correctly, Lady Karla faced a political movement," he coughed slightly at his sarcasm, then continued. "that wanted a Male dominated society to take control of Glacia."

"Yes, but this didn't seem like an upstart rebellion that Karla's uncle provoked. Rather it had been a staple of their society for some time!"

Geoffrey, for the first time since Saetan had known him, looked slightly ruffled. "How peculiar. It's a wonder that they survived at all." He dead panned.

Saetan chuckled slightly. "I believe it worked for them because they only became recently aware of their Blood heritage."

This caused a raised eyebrow. "Only recently? That may explain the lack of records..."

"I think there's more to it than that, Geoffrey. I'm beginning to wonder if they have actually come from a fourth Realm. Perhaps the Jewels they wear are actually from the Blood in this Realm who have returned to the Darkness?"

Geoffrey took on a pensive look. "I'll have to check some things. If there is another Realm, I should like to ask Lorn about it. The dragons may know something-"

"Draca knows nothing of it." Saetan interrupted. "And, by extension, I doubt that Lorn does either. She seemed," Saetan paused a moment, remembering that, despite his interactions with the Seneschal, he didn't really quite know how to read her perfectly. "Ahem, she looked like she was surprised when the young witch, Saffron, mentioned that they'd only recently received their Jewels."

Geoffrey nodded, then turned to face the bookshelves. Straightening his customary black shirt, he began to pace back and forth in front of the eldest of the books the Keep owned. "There must be something in there. Something that we're missing."

Saetan suddenly started. "Something we're missing! Yes!" Geoffrey turned at Saetan's sudden animation.

'Better explain myself.' Saetan thought. 'Can't have him thinking I'm losing it.'

"All four of our guests had a 'C' written in blood on their foreheads. I didn't know what it meant until I looked into the Prince's mind. Cassandra was the one who opened the Gate." He explained.

"Cassandra? Hmm." Geoffrey's reaction was significantly less animated that Draca's had been. Saetan tried to not look disappointed. "I wonder if... hmm." Geoffrey started to speak, then again looked thoughtful.

"You wonder what?" Saetan asked, setting down his glass to join Geoffrey at the bookshelves. The librarian's black eyes bored into him.

"I wonder if the Darkness indeed reincarnated Cassandra. There have been some texts that suggest that the Darkness, at times will bring back to life the soul of one who has returned to the Darkness." Geoffrey said.

Saetan raised a finger to disagree, then found it immediately forming a thinker's fist on his chin. Was it possible? He knew that the Darkness was a very mysterious place that allowed the Blood to exploit life's loopholes by allowing for Guardians and the demon-dead. Was it not also possible that sometimes, it would allow the Blood to exploit even death?

Following a sharp migraine spike, Saetan decided that he'd had enough thinking for one hour. "Look into it. I know we have books on the reincarnation of Blood souls by the Darkness. Maybe some answers lie there. In the meantime, I'm going to see to our guests until Jaenelle and Daemon arrive." He grimaced slightly. "Hopefully at that time our guests will tell their story."

* * *

Endnote: Apologies on the whole OC situation. If you read my profile, you'll know that it isn't uncommon for me to have them. And it helps my story. R&R please and thank you!


	2. The Amarzyliians Tell their Tale

A/N Well, obviously, I don't own most of these characters. Again, apologies for the OCs. I really do have a bad habit (Which I fully intend to break! Or move to fictionpress...) of making them, but I promise they aren't awful MS characters. Anyways, thanks to Kaetien2006 and magicXheart for the reviews. They are always lovely to hear, though if you do have a comment on like, some weird spelling/grammar issue, feel free to message me on it as well. (so, soo OCD) Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

Daemon Sadi gently gripped the control vanes to the coach as it raced toward Ebon Askavi on the Black winds. Jaenelle Angelline, four months pregnant, dozed lightly next to him. Glancing over at her, Daemon couldn't help but sigh slightly. He'd told her he was taking the coach with the sleeping compartment so she could rest! But no, she insisted she'd get no sleep with his 'terrible driving.'

Terrible driving indeed. If that was the case, then why had she been out like a light five minutes into the two-hour journey?

'Don't be too hard on her,' he thought, amused. 'You know she loves teasing you just because you never have any response.' Which may or may not be the problem . . .

Shaking himself, Daemon again tried to pick apart Saetan's message. The High Lord had contacted him via a Black thought band, and informed him that he and Jaenelle were wanted at the Keep. The slim details he'd been given were enough to make his head spin. Another Realm? For years, Kaeleer, Hell and Terreille had been the only three Realms known to the Blood. No one had seriously looked into it, but . . . why would there be a fourth Realm? The Darkness alone knew that answer to that question.

The Darkness! Daemon again glanced over at Jaenelle. As Witch, perhaps she might know what was going on. She was the Darkness, so maybe . . .

Glancing toward the windscreen, Daemon noticed the marker for Ebon Askavi, and pulled back on the controls. The coach dropped out of the winds, and Daemon edged it toward the Keep's platform. He gently set the coach down, and lowered the Black shield he'd erected around it for the journey.

Jaenelle made a small sound, and her eyes fluttered open. Yawning, she asked, "Did we make it?"

Daemon let out a small snort. "Yes, we made it. And even in one piece! Are you surprised?"

Jaenelle stretched languidly. "Oh, I knew we'd make it all along. You can _sometimes_ be an excellent driver."

Daemon resisted the urge to throw his wife in the nearest pond. Don't hurt the baby.

"I believe Draca's waiting for us. We should go." He said.

Jaenelle nodded, and eased herself out of her seat. It turned slightly, and she lost her balance. Catching her, Daemon's eyes were filled with concern.

"Are you all right?"

Jaenelle smirked up at him. "I'm fine, Daemon. Just clumsy as usual. Let's go."

While it wasn't quite the response he was looking for, Daemon forced himself to accept it anyway. He'd seen several other members of the Coven go through dark jeweled pregnancies, and fretted endlessly about her state of affairs. While she was just barely starting to show the earliest signs of being with child, Daemon often found himself edging toward the killing edge with worry.

One of the witches who lived at the Keep bowed deeply as Daemon and Jaenelle approached the door.

"The High Lord would like to see you in his chambers, Prince, Lady."

Jaenelle nodded. "Thank you. We know the way."

* * *

Tristin nervously looked around the bathroom for his clothes. Where were they? He'd allowed himself and the girls to be led away from their meal, which was served by a very large, very intimidating woman whom he made a mental note to never insult. Then, grudgingly (and only after Saffron, Hannah_ and_ Beth told him that he was not allowed near them while they were showering) went to a separate chamber to clean himself up as well.

The shower had been nice. The water was warm and clear, and oddly enough, the soap that smelled faintly of jasmine hadn't dried out his skin. However, the location of his clothes presented itself as another conundrum.

'That nice lady must have stolen them! The witch!' he thought angrily. Inconveniently, the towel rack was placed at just the right distance that he'd have to leave the safety of the shower curtain to get the nice, fluffy looking, blue towel. Why? Why did it have to be so far? Sighing, he cautiously listened. No footsteps. Ok. It must be safe! In one swift motion, he sprinted to the towel. He almost got it around himself by the time the nice hearth witch walked in.

"ACK! Just a minute!" He cried, turning away from her, though he was fairly sure that she got a rather nice view of his rear end for a moment.

With the towel safely around his middle, he turned to face the young woman. He tried to not be too irritated at her lack of being at all phased by the encounter. Rather the opposite in fact, she seemed amused.

"Lady Angelline has arrived. The High Lord requested I bring you some clean clothes. They're in the bedroom across the hall." She explained. Nodding approvingly at him, she left the bathroom.

Damn, damn, damnity, damn! Tristin was so very irritated with this place. He didn't know where he was, he didn't understand these people and their lack of modesty, and he wanted to just go home. Sighing, he walked across the narrow hallway to the small bedchamber. Feeling a stinging near his eyes, he furiously wiped away the tears he felt there.

'I need to be strong for the girls! Ulg! No crying allowed!' he thought to himself.

True to her word, the hearth witch had left a pile of clothing for him to search through. He sighed with relief as he looked at the backpack he'd brought with him. At least he'd have clean boxers!

Examining the pile, he found a bewildering amount of black. Black trousers of all materials, black undershirts, and black button-up shirts. Even a black sweater.

"Must be castoffs from the High Lord." He said to himself. He selected what he hoped were the smallest of the trousers and shirts. Saetan had a good half a foot of height on him, so Tristin wasn't hopeful that the trousers would be the correct length. However, he managed as well as he could, and was grateful when the hearth witch reappeared with a belt.

"Belt! Thank you, miss!" He cried as the young woman entered the room.

She smiled knowingly at him. "You are welcome, Prince. If you'll come with me."

Tristin half hopped, half walked as he struggled with the belt. He managed to finally reach the right hole when his guide stopped in front of another bedchamber door. The woman knocked, to Tristin's annoyance (Why couldn't she have knocked for me?) and he heard Saffron's voice from within.

"I'm coming." She said. A moment later, Saffron appeared in the doorway. She flashed a smile at Tristin. "You look nice." She complimented him.

Tristin blushed. "You look lovely as well. I feel a bit more at ease knowing that most people don't take time to dress up their prisoners." He replied.

Lovely was not the word Tristin wished to use. The forest green gown Saffron wore accented her normally blue eyes, and made them appear to be a pretty shade of turquoise. She also had opted to allow her ebony hair down, which swished two and fro behind her as she walked.

"I have a feeling we're safe here." Saffron said quietly. "Though I do hope meeting this Lady helps explain things. I don't like being left in the dark."

Tristin nodded as well as they continued on to the next door. As Hannah emerged in a blue dress that form fitted her slight figure, Saffron touched his arm softly.

"Are you going to be all right?" She asked at a whisper. Tristin turned to her, and found her eyes full of worry. "You're very tense."

Tristin took a moment to pick a strand of dark hair from her shoulder. "I'll be fine as soon as I know everyone is safe. And as soon as I know this High Lord and Lady Angeline mean us no harm." Saffron nodded quietly, but stayed next to him as they walked to Beth's room.

Tristin had to do his best to keep his jaw from dropping. Whoever let Beth pick _that_ dress obviously hadn't thought of the effects it may have. Tristin suddenly pitied any males that walked in her vicinity.

'Well, at least she'll be happy knowing that she turns heads!' Tristin thought, amused.

The scarlet dress accented the curves of Beth's body, and its low-cut front accented her breasts in such a manner that dared any man to look. Tristin avoided making eye contact with them.

"As always, you like to shock, don't you Beth?" He teased.

Beth put her hands on her hips. "I'm sorry. This dress was the only one that fit me right!"

"She means the way she wanted it to." Hannah said, her hand over her mouth.

"Hey!"

Hannah and Saffron laughed. "Beth, you probably had at least 10 dresses to choose from."

"Actually, it was 12." Saetan's voice startled them. The High Lord entered from the door near the end of the hall. He nodded to the girls. "Somehow I wondered if you would choose that one, Lady. Karla was always fond of it, despite the fact that she doesn't fit into it as well as you."

Tristin ground his teeth slightly. Dirty old perv. He stepped forward to place himself in between Saetan and the girls. The feather light touch of Saffron's hand on his arm distracted him a moment before he spoke. "Shall I assume you're going to take us before Lady Angelline?"

Saetan's warm eyes cooled slightly. "Yes, Prince. I am. Though may I suggest that you mind your tone. The Warlord Prince of Dhemlan is far less patient than I am."

Saffron surprised Tristin by appearing at his side. "Tristin will behave himself, High Lord. I promise you that."

Saetan's eyes once again softened. "I'll keep you to that, Lady. If you'll follow me . . . "

* * *

"I wonder what they're like." Jaenelle wondered aloud for the thirteenth time in the last ten minutes. "Do they even look like us?"

Daemon sighed. Jaenelle was in one of her moods again. "I'm sure that they look fairly normal enough. But because they came from some other Realm, he probably wants you to check them out for yourself."

Jaenelle nodded. "But I still wonder if they are very different from us."

"Oh, sure. They probably have tentacles for mouths and giant suckers for fingers."

Jaenelle's face scrunched up in a manner that Daemon found adorable as she attempted to picture the strange creatures he'd described.

"That certainly would be different from any other Blood that I've ever met, maybe -" The great hall's door opened, cutting her off.

Saetan led a quartet of young people into the room, and Jaenelle gasped.

Daemon felt his heckles rise as she rushed toward the young man and three women. The boy's eyes widened, and he looked unsure of what to do. Daemon watched as Saetan shot him a warning glance, and the boy, a Prince by the feel of him, shrank back as Jaenelle approached.

The girls looked equally confused by the running pregnant woman. Winded, Jaenelle stopped in front of Beth.

"Darling," she said breathlessly. "You look wonderful in that dress. Karla would be so jealous!"

Beth blushed deeply. "Thank you, miss."

Jaenelle looked her over. "I told her when she bought it that she'd never fit into it. She doesn't quite have the boobs for it."

Simultaneously, all three males; Saetan, Daemon and Tristin, found something else to occupy their gaze as they all turned slightly red.

"Oh, silly me," Jaenelle continued. "I am Jaenelle Angelline. The tall, dark and handsome man over there is my husband, Daemon."

Daemon inclined his head toward the quartet of young people. He gave his best 'bored' expression as he surveyed the young adults in front of him. The females seemed unthreatening enough, and while the male was tense, he was only a Sapphire Prince. Yet there was something innately odd about his aura that Daemon didn't like and couldn't place.

Well, whatever it was, it didn't seem to bother Jaenelle.

"So . . . where exactly are you from?" She asked, looking the girls over after she continued to compliment them on their borrowed dresses and gowns.

"I think we'll get to that," Saetan replied, stepping in front of the girls. "For now, I think we need to explain some things to them about our world before we learn about theirs."

Jaenelle pouted a bit. "Ok, fine, fine. Business first I guess." She said, half attempting to stomp back toward Daemon and the largish table. Daemon wasn't quite sure, but he thought he heard Saetan mutter something about pregnancy and ponds.

The next two hours were spent with questions and answers from the newcomers to Daemon, Jaenelle and Saetan. For the most part, Daemon was quiet, as was Tristin. Daemon couldn't help but notice the Prince's lack of questions. The young man seemed very far away through most of the proceedings.

The girls were the polar opposites, however. All three of them were very excited to learn that Queens ruled the Realms.

"So, in Kaeleer, women rule?" Hannah asked. Amongst the females, she and Beth were the most talkative.

Jaenelle nodded. "Since, well, as long as anyone can remember, the Queens have ruled the realms."

For what had to be the first time in nearly twenty minutes, Saffron spoke up. "You've mentioned Queens several times before, but . . . what exactly are they?"

Daemon and Saetan exchanged glances.

You didn't tell them?

Would you want to explain that?

Good point.

Jaenelle bit her lip cutely. "Well . . . the Blood are divided into many different classes. The strongest females are known as Queens. They are followed by Black Widows, then Priestesses and Healers, and finally normal Blood females who are known as witches at times." She explained.

'And that's why I love you, Witch. You always know how to explain things.' Daemon thought, and patted Jaenelle's leg from beneath the table.

"Is that why you called me Prince earlier? Is it another class title?" Tristin asked.

Jaenelle nodded. "Yes, I was getting to that. The males aren't divided into as many classes. There are really only three major blood titles for males: Warlord, Prince, and Warlord Prince. Now, the proper way to address someone who is a Warlord is to call them Warlord, and you may use Prince for either Princes or Warlord Princes." She continued.

"Well . . . what are we?" Beth asked.

For a moment, Jaenelle looked confused. Daemon felt himself ready for action, but relaxed as Jaenelle touched his knee.

"You don't know? What is this society like that you live in?" She asked.

It was Tristin who answered this time. "Amarzyliis only recently gained these Jewels." He said, fingering the sapphire pendant around his neck. "We don't even really know how to use them at all! All I can do is sorta make a shield thing and I can sometimes feel what the girls and you all are thinking, but it's blurry and gives me a headache."

Saffron nodded. "I can do that too, except for the shield part."

Jaenelle and Daemon exchanged confused glances. "What do you mean, just recently?" Daemon asked. "That isn't possible."

Saetan stepped in. "I believe that they've had their Jewels all along, they just weren't able to receive them until someone was able to cast a world spell to reveal them to those in their society who were Blood. They don't know who, but they also can't do things like basic Craft."

Jaenelle put a thoughtful finger to her lips. "Why don't you tell us exactly what happened before you arrived in the Keep? Maybe that will clear some things up?" She asked, her voice slightly lower as Witch took her.

The females all looked to Tristin, who looked back at them.

"Oh, come on! You know I'm awful at storytelling!" He complained.

Beth and Hannah glared at him. "You also claim to have the best memory." Hannah countered.

"Besides," Beth added. "If you forget things, we can always fill in as well."

Saffron said nothing, but lay a hand on his arm.

"Oh, all right. Here goes. I apologize if it's boring."

"How about incoherent?" Beth teased.

"Shut up and listen."

* * *

Seven Hours Earlier . . .

Tristin still puzzled over the odd pendant that appeared around his neck a scant few weeks earlier. The girls all had one as well, yet some students on campus hadn't suddenly found a Jewel. ("The campus of what?" Jaenelle asked. "A college." Beth replied. Noting the confused look on Jaenelle and Daemon's faces, she continued. "It's a school for adults who want to learn how to work in specific fields.") Several fights had broken out, and people were starting to hide their Jewels in their shirts as to not cause a commotion.

Hannah, Beth and Saffron were walking with him toward the dormitories when they were approached by a young woman in black.

"Tristin!" She called.

Tristin turned to face her. "Oh, hi, Cassandra! What's up?"

Cassandra kept biting her lip. She was an attractive young woman whom Tristin had a class with, yet she seemed rather nervous that day.

"Do you think you could help me study this afternoon?" She asked, glancing around.

Tristin tried to follow what she was looking at, but found nothing. "Um, sure. Why don't you walk with us?" He asked.

He and Cassandra chatted while they walked. The other girls walked slightly ahead of them, carrying on their own conversation. They were nearly back to the dorm when a fireball exploded overhead.

"Get down!" Tristin yelled, trying to turn to see what had happened.

Cassandra grabbed him. "Get inside!" She hissed, grabbing him and Saffron. Beth and Hannah also sprinted after them.

As they sprinted into the dorms, Tristin could see several men in black suits shooting what looked like coloured energy beams from their hands. Only later did he realize that it was their Jewels that were giving them their power.

Cassandra gripped the hands of Tristin and his friends.

"I need you all to go upstairs and pack a small bag. I don't think this world is safe anymore."

"No kidding!" Beth cried.

Cassandra shook her roughly. "Look, use a backpack. _Quickly_ pack a few changes of underwear and other items that you think you may need. I'm sending you somewhere safe!"

She shoved the girls toward the stairs, and Tristin followed.

"Where is safe?" He asked.

"I don't know, but you get a bag too!"

"What about you? Where will you go?" He demanded.

Cassandra laughed. "If I succeed, I'll probably go back to the Darkness. Go child! Go quickly! I'll try to teach you a basic shield if you hurry."

Tristin did as he was told and ran to his second floor dorm room. All throughout the halls students were screaming and running out of the building. The upper floor had been hit, and Tristin desperately hoped the girls were all right. Grabbing his blue backpack, he grabbed his favourite pairs of boxers and stuffed them inside. Not really sure what Cassandra meant by 'travel,' he packed away his wind up torch, his 20 centimeter long knife, and his pocket binoculars.

"If anything, I'll have something to protect myself with," he said aloud, choosing to put his knife on his belt instead of in the bag. Nothing else seemed important enough to bring, except a stuffed cat he'd known as Merlin. In one final measure before leaving the room, Tristin grabbed an extra pair of jeans, and sprinted back down the stairs.

As far as he could tell, Cassandra was all right. She'd remained hidden in an office, and was waiting for him.

"You're back early. Ok, the shield. Can you imagine in your mind a bubble forming around you?" She asked.

Tristin focused hard, and was able to picture it. He nodded.

"Ok, I want you to focus on your Jewel while you do that?"

"Why?"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER! JUST DO IT!" Cassandra yelled.

Tristin tried again, and, to his surprise, saw a small rippling in the air in front of him. He also had a sudden epiphany. If he focused just right . . .

A small wave of Sapphire energy shot out from his Jewel.

Cassandra looked at him in surprise. "That was fast. Be careful where you aim!" She ordered harshly.

The girls ran down the stairs with their bags full of belongings. Saffron was the first down, with her light blue backpack, followed by Hannah, and finally, Beth. Cassandra cast a Black shield around the five of them, and they began their run toward the altar . . .

* * *

_Present_

"And the last thing I remember was a queer look on Cassandra's face as she pushed me through the portal. The next I knew, we were in that room with a very surprised dragon lady." Tristin explained.

Saetan nodded. "It had to be Cassandra." He stated.

Daemon sent him an inquiring look. "How, I thought all the Guardians and demon-dead were sacrificed?" He said, looking at Jaenelle.

She, for one, looked unperturbed.

"I wondered if something like that might happen." She said, her voice ringing as if she were far away.

Daemon turned to face her. "What?"

Hannah nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, what indeed? What happened?"

Saetan put up his hand. "We'll explain later." He said. "But what are you thinking, witchling?"

Jaenelle continued to gaze off. "Well, it isn't like it hasn't happened before or is at all unheard of." She said. "By sacrificing herself, Cassandra's soul must have gone to the Darkness, only to have the Darkness reincarnate her with her memories."

"She had what happen with her what what?" Tristin asked, his face scrunching up in confusion.

Daemon tried hard not to laugh. All four of the young people held nearly an identical expression. Though some of them were more mixed with exhaustion rather than fear. At least the fear seemed to be leaving them.

"Our people have some beliefs about reincarnation, too." Saffron said quietly. All eyes at the table looked in her direction, and she looked uncomfortable. "Um . . . I mean . . . some of the religious texts say it's possible . . . um." She looked down to avoid everyone's eyes.

"I'm having Geoffrey look into the old texts as well. Our societies seem to be similar enough in nature. I'm just confused as to where this new Realm came from." Saetan added. "So far as I knew, Terreille, Kaeleer and Hell were the only Realms that existed."

"A lot of mystics would say otherwise." Jaenelle added. "I'm not really surprised."

'That's because you're Witch, dear. You know everything.' Daemon thought. Not that she's going to fill us in any time soon. Dammit, why did that boy have something odd around him?

"What do the texts say?" Saetan asked. "Or, for that matter, do they mention anything about the Blood in them?"

"Papa, I think we need to give them a break." Jaenelle said.

Daemon had to agree. While he'd been watching Tristin, he'd noted Beth's laying of her head on Hannah's shoulder, and Saffron was looking rather weary.

"Why don't we have them take a rest?" She suggested. "You've all had a traumatic day, and deserve a break. We'll meet first thing in the morning!" She said with a smile.

The girls looked relieved, as did Tristin.

"Thank you, Lady Angelline. We appreciate your hospitality."

Jaenelle laughed. "Oh, you're in the High Lord's hospitality, Prince. But your friends may slip off to sleep on us, and I think there's so much more to learn!" she replied, her usual energy returning. "So first thing in the morning it is."

Tristin nodded to her, and Daemon almost felt bad for him. He was probably expecting a long night's rest. However, if he knew Jaenelle, she'd be up by seven and have coffee going.

He sighed inwardly. This whole pregnancy thing wasn't very fun for him. He almost missed the grumpy morning look that Jaenelle had before she began bearing his child. Almost being the operative word, as the morning conversation had livened slightly. Shaking his head, he followed her toward their room in the Keep.

* * *

Tristin gratefully pulled on the pair of sleeping pants and crawled into the large bed. He'd insisted that he sleep close by the girls, and Saetan seemed to understand. What he didn't seem to quite get was that Tristin wanted to be near all of the girls, not just one in particular. At first, he'd offered him a room that led into Hannah's room, but because it was farther from the hall, Tristin had requested to not stay there. Finally, Saetan seemed to gather that it wasn't that he didn't want to be near the girls, but that he didn't have a particular one that he was attached to, so Saetan set him up in the room across the hall from Saffron.

Shaking his head, Tristin rubbed his tired eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he allowed himself a moment to shake as a small sob escaped his lips. Gods he was frightened! Everyone seemed nice enough here, but he sorely wished he knew what was happening. And where they were. And what was most important, when they would be able to go home!

A few tears managed to trickle down his face before Tristin furiously wiped them away. It wouldn't do to go crying on the girls now. Cautiously, he went and opened the door, propping it open with his shoe. That was better. At least he'd be able to hear if anything was going on.

The Keep was a bit cold, so Tristin pulled on a thin shirt. The buttons would probably be uncomfortable to sleep in later, but he didn't mind. Sleep was probably the best option.

Crawling into bed, he propped himself up with the many pillows behind him.

'At least the High Lord is rich and somewhat kind I suppose.' He admitted to himself begrudgingly. 'The bed isn't all that bad, not to mention that it's huge!'

A small sound coming from the doorway caught his attention. Tristin looked up to see Saffron and Hannah standing in the doorway. He beckoned them inside. He had to smile at the pink nightgown Hannah had been stuck with. She hated pink.

"What's the matter?" He asked.

Saffron sat down on the bed to his right, and Hannah stood on his left side.

"Can we sleep with you?" Hannah asked, biting her lip.

Tristin made a face. "Um, sure. Is everything all right?" He asked.

Hannah didn't say anything as she sat down next to him. He passed her a pillow, then yelped as Saffron's cold toes brushed his leg.

"Make yourself comfortable, why don't you?" He teased. Then he turned serious. "But for real, is everything all right."

Hannah and Saffron exchanged glances, and Saffron sighed.

"We'd just feel safer if we were with you." She explained, her eyes looking very blue with her navy-coloured nightgown, and also very worried.

Tristin nodded and looked over at Hannah. She wore a similar expression.

He shrugged. "Well, the bed is certainly big enough. If you want to stay, that's fine with me." He said.

The girls surprised him by simultaneously hugging him. Neither female was very keen on physical touch, so, for a moment, Tristin felt rather special. Then they broke away.

"Thank you, Tristin." Hannah said, sliding in underneath the yellow sheets.

"Yes, thank you." Saffron echoed.

Tristin slid down onto his back. "Like I said, it's no problem." He chuckled. "I just hope Beth doesn't come in here in the middle of the night. She'll have to sleep at the end of the bed!"

Hannah smiled, and turned down the lamp. Within minutes, she was fast asleep and breathing softly.

Tristin and Saffron, however, were still very awake.

"Tristin?" Saffron whispered.

"Yes?"

"Do you think everything will be okay? I mean . . . do you think we'll ever be able to get home again?" She asked.

Tristin was silent a moment. Gods he hoped so. He really wasn't a religious person at all, but he was willing to offer all sorts of offerings to the Dark Ones if it meant he could get home.

"I hope so." He replied, turning his head to face her. The light from the door framed her face slightly, and once again, Tristin found himself appreciating how pretty she was.

"I'm sure something will happen and we'll be able to go back again." He said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "If anything, I'll try to figure something out."

In one smooth motion, Saffron latched onto him and hugged him fiercely.

"I hope so," she whispered, her head on his chest.

Tristin wrapped his arm around the small of her back. "It'll be ok. I promise."

Saffron said nothing, but continued to rest her head on his chest. Sighing, Tristin began rubbing her back, and gently drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Hope you liked it. It took a lot longer for me to get around to updating. Hopefully it was worth the wait! Thanks to those of you who reviewed! -Wraith


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